Where the Wind's Like a Whetted Knife
by inkwelled
Summary: General Amaya finds her sister in the spot she always does. The piece of parchment left on her desk - still closed with the uneven towers of Katolis' signa when her shift on the battlements was over - requested her presence at her earliest convenience. Medieval/Pirate AU, Canon Divergence, Gren/Amaya
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! I haven't used this site in six years but we'll see how this goes. Whetted Knife will update on Mondays and every update will range from 2.4-2.9k depending the time I have that week on writing. While I'm ahead on writing chapters, I don't know how long this streak will last.**

**While tagged as Gren/Amaya, I still haven't made a decision on whether it's Gren/Amaya or Janai/Amaya. Hope that doesn't cause too much confusion!**

**Cross-posted on Ao3 under the same name and username, so don't hesitate to say hello! Come follow me on my twitter and tumblr at ****cinnamnym.**

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General Amaya finds her sister in the spot she always does. The piece of parchment left on her desk - still closed with the uneven towers of Katolis' signa when her shift on the battlements was over - requested her presence at her earliest convenience.

_Do not wait up, _she had signed quickly to Lieutenant Gren. He had nodded her, wishing her goodnight as she shouldered a thicker, denser cloak and stepped back into the night.

She is glad, now. The wind nips at her nose and she buries her face further into the scratchy, warm folds.

It isn't hard to find her older sister.

Queen Sarai of the kingdom of Katolis stands tall on the battlements between two watchtowers, squinting out at the darkness that surrounds the castle.

She doesn't turn when Amaya approaches, although she knows her arrival is heard. Amaya halts within Sarai's peripheral, knowing her sister can see her even if she chooses not to acknowledge.

_My queen, _she signs after she bends at the waist before straightening._ You summoned?_

Sarai, after all, is her queen as much as she is her sister.

_You know how I hate formalities, _Sarai signs before turning back to the darkness._ Stand, General._

Amaya watches her older sister closely.

She stands stiffly beneath her armor. Despite being queen, her sister does not fancy large gowns like their brother and sister kingdoms. It's more common to find Queen Sarai in trousers and a tunic than a corset, laced beneath her heavy armor than with skirts of tulle.

Behind her, her dark blue cloak flutters weakly in the wind that's coming off the mountains that surround their border. Sarai's hand is curled around her spear, gilded blades flashing in the fire.

Amaya doesn't have to look down to know the butt of the two-bladed spear is being dug into the stone. Her sister, while quiet, has always worn her heart on her sleeve.

_Your Highness?_

"There is a threat against King Harrow's life," Sarai says aloud. Despite being turned away, General Amaya can understand the movement of her sister's lips. Sarai has always enunciated for Amaya's sake, even after her younger sister no longer required it. "We received word yesterday. This stays between us, General."

Amaya nods, clamping her fist to her breastplate_. What are your orders, Your Majesty?_

Her older sister's face softens when she turns, lines of her face relaxing in the flickering firelight of the torches.

_Amaya, _she signs, stepping forward to lean her spear against the stone, _this is not an order from your queen. This is a plea from your sister and a mother. I am entrusting you with the boys._

_I don't understand,_ Amaya admits.

Sarai sighs.

_War is coming, sister,_ Sarai signs. From inside her fur-lined fine gloves, her fingers are not freezing but her lungs are with the crisp air and the knowledge, _and the boys are no longer safe here. We don't know the extent of the threat and when they intend to strike. But we do know they are not only coming for the king._

_The crown prince,_ Amaya realizes with horror.

Sarai doesn't answer. Amaya doesn't need her reply to know. Her older sister is turned back to the night but Amaya sees the slump in her shoulders under her silver armor, the shallow rise beneath her breastplate.

_Where will you have us go? Am I to proceed alone?_

Her sister takes a deep breath in. Neither one comments on the tears that slide down Sarai's cheeks but are quickly dashed away.

_Take someone you trust,_ Sarai signs. _I know you'll choose Gren. I have supplies and two horses for you in the stables. You leave when the moon is highest. Everything else is explained in this. We don't have time for anything more._

Sarai's hand unearths from beneath her cloak as Amaya blinks. _Tonight?_

"You must," Sarai says urgently aloud, stepping closer to take Amaya's hands so she can't argue. Amaya doesn't dare to tear her eyes away from Sarai's face. "You must, Amaya. They aren't safe here but I know they'll be safe with you. You are their aunt and the strongest person I know. They are your nephews and the future of this kingdom. Please."

The parchment roll presses into her hand, beseeching.

Amaya's face tightens and she nods. In the next moment, Sarai pulls her into a hug and Amaya can feel the vibrations of _'I love you'_ being murmured into her neck.

Sarai pulls back. _Keep them safe for me,_ Sarai signs and Amaya nods fiercely. She clasps her fist to her breastplate, bows.

_I will not fail you, sister._

Sarai smiles tearfully and turns back to patrol. Amaya hesitates for only a moment, knowing there isn't much time and she has much to do.

First thing on her list is to wake Gren.

Amaya imagines the noise he makes when roused from sleep is like a low whine. In the almost-dark of his chambers, Gren blinks at her for a moment before bolting upwards, knowing that his commanding officer would only rouse him from sleep if the situation was immediate.

_General Amaya?_

_Up,_ she orders. _I will explain on the way. Dress for battle. Quiet._

Amaya is folding a tunic and trousers when Gren walks through. Their quarters are connected, as Lieutenant Gren is her interpreter and right-hand man.

Where she goes, he goes.

Gren clasps his hand above his heart, bows. Amaya waves him off, stuffing an extra cloak into her pack with a muffled grunt.

_General Amaya, your orders?_

_No time for formalities,_ she signs quickly when she turns, slinging the pack over her shoulder. _I trust you are packed?_

_Yes._

She nods. _Follow me, Lieutenant. Stay close. Quiet. I'll explain later._

They travel in silence. Amaya knows their armor must be clinking as they make their way down the winding stairs of their quarters to the stables. It's a miracle they don't come across anyone, but Amaya has taken the servant's corridors for a reason.

For all his curiosity that Amaya can feel burning into her back, Gren does as she says.

_Go directly to the stables, _Sarai's letter had ordered when she unraveled the roll, the paper rough in her hands when she removed her gloves, broken the seal under the candlelight of her chambers. _We will escort the boys from their chamber. Be hasty, sister. We do not have much time but there is much to do._

The stables are dim and still.

General Amaya motions for Lieutenant Gren to slow as she draws her shield. Gren does not carry his own weapon besides a dagger in his boot and at his side, his preferred weapon being her voice and will.

It is enough.

Firelight from the torches on the wall flutters and Amaya whirls, raises her shield, other arm reaching for her sword -

King Harrow steps from the third stall.

Her brother-in-law stands tall, impassive, but Amaya can see the circles beneath his brown eyes from many a sleepless night. Harrow's eyebrows raise at Amaya's drawn sword and she presses her lips together, inclining her head with respect as she sheathes it.

Harrow chuckles but it's humorless. He motions them forward and the two of them follow King Harrow out of the stables.

General Amaya sees the torches before anything else.

They round the corner of the stables to the back side. Amaya steps forward into the light to see Queen Sarai, kneeling.

Harrow approaching must alert her because she turns and Amaya can see Ezran, chest heaving with sadness, his ever-present glowtoad clutched to his chest. He's clad in a too-big cloak, thick and heavy.

Amaya suspects from a soldier's uniform.

She catches sight of Callum then, hand on his brother's shoulder from behind. They're both listening to whatever their mother is saying but they both look up when Sarai turns, alerted most likely by Amaya and Gren's armor.

Ezran's mouth forms her name and he looks concerned for a moment before Amaya kneels in time to catch him. She presses him into her, eyes closing, breathing in the scent of little boy and jelly tarts, the heady smell of the kitchens he so loves to sneak around in.

Sarai must have told him just enough that the young prince understood that he and his brother would be taking a trip with their aunt.

Ezran is young but perceptive. Amaya knows that he's aware something else is going on.

She looks up in time to see Gren half-bow to Callum, who nods solemnly. Amaya notes the death-grip on his sketchbook's strap on his shoulder, the tick of his pointer finger tapping against the leather.

He knows, then.

More than Ezran, at least. She can't gauge how much her sister has told him, though.

Ezran pulls back and she sends him the most reassuring smile she can before standing. Callum appears at his brother's side, says something under his breath.

He smiles hesitantly at his aunt before turning away. Hand on Ezran's shoulder, Callum gently steers them towards the two horses that Harrow is still packing saddlebags onto.

Amaya stands as Sarai approaches, her sister's eyes only on her sons. There is a deep sadness there, something below the surface. She knows her older sister isn't telling her everything.

_Thank you,_ Sarai signs and Amaya is the one who pulls her close this time.

Her older sister trembles minutely in her arms and Amaya's heart breaks for her. She's queen and a warrior, the most equipped to keep her family safe yet in the face of an unknown threat, she's the most vulnerable.

Amaya's fingers curl in the soft of her sister's cloak. She resists the urge to bury her face in the cloth. She remembers these hugs, when the Queen was a Lady with a bastard son and iron fist against anyone who said anything vicious.

The princes may lose their mother tonight.

Amaya may lose her sister.

_Keep them safe, please, _Sarai begs when she pulls back, eyes intense, hands moving so quickly that Amaya can hardly keep up. _Do whatever it takes to keep them alive._

She presses the last sentence into Amaya's breastplate as if she's digging them deep into her sister's skin, into her breast, to the organ beneath that beats warm and wild.

Amaya makes a promise so potent it rattles between her ribs, in the cracks between her armor where they click together.

_You have my word._

The rest of the send-off happens with little fanfare. Ezran is wary but mostly excited, if not sleepy. After all, being pulled from bed this late into the night is not usual for the ten-year-old prince.

Amaya watches Callum closely as he straightens his shoulders and hugs the King. She knows his fears about the King, about calling him Dad - about loving him as much as Harrow loves him.

As much as Ezran loves Harrow.

It's written all over Callum's face when he pulls back from the short hug and Amaya can see the hurt in Harrow's eyes for a moment. As if his step-son is being ripped from him in more ways than one.

She knows Callum sees it too. Recognizes it.

Callum falls back into Harrow's arms nary a second later.

She thinks he must make a choking sound then, his body wracking for a moment when he buries his head in his father's shoulder.

Amaya looks away when Harrow's arms tighten around his son. Shorn beard pressing to Callum's ear, she sees his lips move but looks away.

Even watching is eavesdropping. Right before her eyes tear away, though, she sees Harrow press a roll of parchment into Callum's hands, his mouth forming the word _promise._

Gren appears at her right, already saddled.

_Destination, General?_

_Port, _Amaya signs._ We move quickly and quietly. You know as well as I that this isn't the normal op. Stay close, eyes open._

Gren nods as Callum walks up. Her eldest nephew wipes his nose on his sleeve, looks up at her.

She jerks her head, motioning for him to climb up.

With only the tiniest bit of trouble does he. Amaya scoots back on the saddle and Callum settles in front of her.

Ezran's smile stretches wide when Harrow's hug turns into a lift onto Gren's horse. Copying the General's move, Gren lets the crown prince sit in front of him. Bait is curled up in Ezran's lap.

Sarai appears, peppering Ezran's cheeks with kisses. While he squirms away at first, Ezran throws his arms around his mother's neck.

Amaya watches Sarai's back wrack with quiet sobs she knows that her sister is desperately trying to tamper down. She pulls back, face turned just enough that Amaya can see her mouth.

Sarai cups Ezran's cheeks.

"Goodbye, my boy," she says, lips wet with salt. Ezran looks confused, reaching out to wipe away some of her tears.

"Mom?"

"I love you," she says insistently and he smiles cautiously, in the way kids do when they don't know what's going on but want everything to be okay.

"I love you too, Mom."

Amaya bites her lip when new tears roll down Sarai's cheeks. She can't bear to look away, not now. She needs to know the severity of the situation and knows only Sarai's reaction will tell her.

When Sarai turns fully, her eyes are red and swollen. Amaya watches Harrow embrace his son as well, sees the sadness in Gren's eyes.

Ezran doesn't know. Gren and Amaya's gazes meet.

He never will.

Sarai comes to a halt barely inches from Amaya's mare's flank. She looks up at Callum, already on the saddle, smiles wobbily. "Breathe," she says softly, lips pursing and Callum's shoulders go lax. "Breathe, darling. It'll be okay."

Amaya averts her gaze but can feel the vibrations of Callum's response. "Mom?"

It's uncertain.

"Take care of your brother," Sarai instructs, wrapping her eldest son in her arms. "Listen to your aunt and Gren. They will keep you safe no matter what."

"I will do my best," Callum promises steadily and Amaya can feel the determined beat of his heart behind his breastbone.

Sarai swallows a sob. "We will see each other again," she murmurs. "I believe that."

Both of them are crying now but Sarai steps away, stands tall, nods to Amaya.

General Amaya of the Standing Batallion nods back. The parchment roll in her cloak burns as Gren draws up beside her.

It's time to go.

It's silent but they know this may be the last time they see each other. It's a slap in the face that Amaya can't recover from. She wants to throw her arms around her older sister, cry as loud as she wants though she can't hear it, sign everything she's ever wanted to say into Sarai's hands.

Sarai's eyes hear her though Amaya's fingers don't move.

There's understandng there. It kills Amaya.

She nods back.

As Amaya draws up the reins and clicks her heels against the horse's flank, she remembers the tears dripping down her sister's cheeks when they pulled back from their hug. Amaya remembers how she rested her forehead against Sarai's.

How the cold of Sarai's circlet pressed into her skin, reminding her of her duty to these boys. So much more than her nephews but her princes.

Her responsibility.

Amaya raises her hand in a goodbye and Sarai's shoulders shake when she lifts her own hand in the same motion. Harrow's hand settles around her shoulders and he looks on, quiet acceptance and grief dancing behind the kindness in his eyes that Sarai had fallen for.

Then they're off.

It doesn't escape Amaya's notice how Callum keeps looking back until the forest swallows up the sight of his mother and stepfather. Until the castle fades from view, until the fire of the torches around the battlements and the sound of the horns that signal shift change sound.

Gren stops perking up every so often. Amaya draws her own conclusions.

They all ride in silence for about two hours.

In the midst of both watching their surroundings and keeping an eye on Gren, Ezran asleep against his chestplate, Amaya almost misses the movement of Callum's fingers.

At first she thinks it's another nervous tick but catches _again._

She knits her eyebrows. _Again, my boy._

Callum doesn't look up at her, just straight ahead into the darkness. The scarf around his neck, underneath the thick cloak Sarai had draped around his shoulders before pulling him into a bruising hug, stirs in the wind.

_We won't see them again, will we?_

Amaya has never been able to lie to Callum. She signs quickly.

_I don't know, _she says honestly. She tries to keep the movement of her fingers from Ezran's sight, knowing that while he's shaky, he still knows enough sign language to understand the bare bones._ It is my hope that you will be together again one day but it's for your safety._

_They're coming to kill Ez and Harrow._

Callum's hand quivers when he signs Harrow, starting the beginning of _dad_ before changing to his name. It's not a question, though.

The thought raises a lump in Amaya's throat.

_I don't know. Your mother trusted me to keep you and your brother safe. I promise I will do everything in my power to bring you two home to your parents when the time is right._

_I know you will._

They both don't mention how Sarai entrusting the boys to Amaya means the threat is at least legitimate to a fault. If the alarm was false, they wouldn't have been sent off with the one person who would sacrifice body and soul for their wellbeing.

Callum doesn't speak for the rest of the time.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Callum. Callum, up."_

_He blinks awake, eyelids heavy. "Mom?"_

_The weak candlelight coming from the single candle in his mother's hand illuminates her face. It seems to float in the darkness of his chamber. "Up, darling," she murmurs, hand on his arm. "I need you to move. Quickly."_

_Callum throws off his covers, bare feet pressing to the stone. A quick glance to his brother's connected chambers reveals Harrow bent over Ezran's sleeping form, murmuring something. A candle is at his side as Ezran blinks awake, Bait making a displeased sound about being roused from sleep._

_His mother's face is long and drawn with worry. Her eyes, usually surrounded by laughter lines, are tight with concern when she pushes Callum's clothes to his chest before picking up his pack. "Quick," she whispers hurriedly as she begins to flit around the darkened room. "With haste, my boy."_

_"What's going on?" he yawns as he slides on his trousers, folds up his sleep tunic and sets it aside. "Mom? What's happening?"_

_When Sarai turns, Callum is wide awake. There are tears hovering in her lash line, barely held back. Callum steps closer._

_"Mom? Are you okay?"_

_Her hand is warm when it cups his cheek. "I will explain once we get moving," she whispers. "I love you, Callum. I love you and your brother so much. I hope you will understand one day."_

_Callum's eyebrows furrow and he opens his mouth to ask more, anything, an explanation for the tears and the worry lines and the quick, hurried movements. But Sarai is already moving, pack pressing into Callum's hands as she slings his sketchbook over his shoulder._

_Hand on his back, she steers him into Ezran's chamber. _

_Ezran is yawning wide, Harrow's fingers tugging his shirt down. He spots his mother through the door as the collar reveals his messy bedhead and warm eyes. "Mom?" he yawns, rubbing at his eyes as Harrow kneels to slip on his shoes._

_"Hello, baby," his mother murmurs, coming to kneel in front of him. She rests a hand on his knee. "I am sorry to wake you but you're taking a trip."_

_"A trip?" Ezran asks, his eyes lighting up. Callum's stomach turns._

_They aren't taking a trip._

_"Are you coming?"_

_Sarai's spine straightens and Callum catches the look she exchanges with Harrow. It makes him want to throw up - he hates being treated as a kid. Something's going on they aren't telling him._

_"No," Sarai murmurs, lifting him onto her hip. "I'm not, baby, but your Aunt Amaya is in! You remember Gren, right?"_

_Ezran rests his head in the crook of his mother's neck and shoulder, unbothered by her full armor. It's just another detail that puts Callum on edge - both the King and Queen are in full battle armor, swords by their sides and circlets on._

_They never wear their armor around the princes._

_There's a snake in Callum's throat, coiling. Ezran's arms come around Sarai's neck as he yawns again, head lolling and Sarai chuckles sorrowfully. "You can sleep on the way," she says and nods to Harrow._

_The King nods back, side-stepping Sarai to open the door that leads to the corridor. Ezran's head shoots up._

_"Wait, Mom! Bait!"_

_Both adults chuckle. "Dad will get them," Sarai soothes as she steps through the door, motioning with one hand for Callum to follow. Stone in the pit of his stomach, he does._

_The corridor is dim with torches and devoid of guards. Another thing that makes the nerves in his fingertips spark and his lungs to grow smaller - there's always guards outside their door. _

_After all, the crown prince of Katolis sleeps inside._

_"Come," Sarai urges. Despite her low tone, her voice echoes. _

_A cold wind sweeps from somewhere and Callum shivers, drawing his arms tight around him. Sarai catches the movement, her gaze hardening for a moment._

_Harrow appears a second later, key in hand. He presses the key into the hand that isn't supporting Ezran and takes the boy without a word exchanged. Sarai's eyes follow the movement._

_Callum doesn't miss the way his mother's fingers curl, almost as if she's reaching for Ezran. She straightens a second later, the devastated look on her face evaporating so quickly that Callum wonders if he missed it._

_"Cloaks," Sarai murmurs. Harrow nods, turning down the corridor after kissing her cheek._

_Sarai approaches him, puts her hand on his shoulder. Callum swallows._

_There's understanding in Sarai's eyes. "Don't be afraid," she whispers. "I love you, Callum. I will be right back. Listen to Harrow, keep close. I wish I could say more."_

_Callum swallows the stone on his tongue. "I'm not afraid," he says and his mother's hug is fierce and quick. "I love you too."_

_She disappears down the opposite end of the corridor with a sweep of her midnight cloak. Harrow makes eyes contact, nodding, candlestick in hand. "Callum," he murmurs, lowering his head. "Follow me. Please. She'll be there when we say goodbye."_

_His voice is quiet enough as to not let Ezran hear. Callum tightens his grip on his sketchbook. "Alright. Where are we going?"_

_"Somewhere safe," Harrow mutters, not unkindly as he turns away. "Amaya will explain as will Sarai but time is short. I need you to keep moving."_

_Without another word, Callum follows._

_He stares at his step-father's back as they walk, descend stairs Callum's never seen before. In the dark, only illuminated by a single candle, everything looks different. He jumps at the long shadows on the stone, the creaking of the doors they pass through._

_Harrow's hand wraps around Callum's arm and yanks. He stifles a yelp as his step-father sidesteps into a room Callum hadn't seen, pressing him into the wall._

_Two guards pass by, none the wiser._

_Callum's stomach flips at the breath of relief Harrow takes. The suspicion is turning to fear, now, that something's going on. "What's going on?"_

_Harrow hushes him, peeking into the corridor. "Take your brother, Callum," he instructs and Callum nods as Harrow sets him down._

_"Ezran, I need you to go with your brother. You're going to the stables. Wait in the third stall and don't come out until your mother or I come to get you, alright?"_

_"Like hide and seek?" Ezran says blearily, rubbing at his eyes. Bait grumbles in his arms, glowing softly._

_Harrow's smile is tiny in the candlelight. Overhead, Callum can hear the trumpets that signal shift change. Harrow's smile tightens into something more worrisome._

_"Go now," he instructs. Callum nods, takes Ezran's hand, and runs._

_The shift change means there's movement all over the battlements. Callum catches sight of swords swinging by hips, the murmur of soldiers switching out their positions for a night's rest._

_They move quickly and quietly. Callum shoves open the door to the stables, set towards the back of the courtyard of the castle, closes it behind them._

_"Callum? What's going on?"_

_He ignores Ezran, grabbing his little brother's hand and counting the stalls. They huddle behind the pile of hay in the third just as Harrow instructed and Callum presses a finger to Ezran's mouth when he opens it again._

_"I'll explain later," Callum murmurs. "Trust me, Ez. If you say anything Mom and Dad could find us and then we'll lose hide and seek."_

_Satisfied, Ezran slides down further, hushing a growling Bait. Callum's stomach is queasy. He hates lying to his little brother but there's something going on he can't identify._

_The stable door creaks open and Callum sucks in a breath, hand tightening around Ezran's arm._

_"Callum? Ezran? Are you in here?"_

_Ezran all but trips over himself in his haste to get out of the stall. "Mom! You found us!"_

_Callum catches her confused look for a second before he mouths hide and seek. Her frown turns into a smile. "I suppose I did! You'll do better next time!"_

_"It was Callum's idea," Ezran announces. Sarai chuckles, ruffling his hair. _

_"Would you have chosen a different place to hide?"_

_Ezran continues talking as Sarai drapes a cloak around him. Callum notices the two heavy, guard-issued cloaks laid over her arm._

_They're going somewhere cold, then. Or maybe it's just for the night?_

_"Let me," Sarai murmurs, draping the material around Callum's shoulders and fastening it at his throat. He watches her warily, scanning every inch of her face. What is she hiding?_

_She's opening her mouth, eyebrows creasing. "Callum-"_

_"You should have gotten one for Bait!" Ezran says, holding the glowtoad close and wedging himself between Callum and Sarai. "He's gonna get cold, Mom."_

_The moment is gone. Callum's face falls._

_He loves his brother but he's never been the best when it came to timing._

_"Hmm," Sarai hums. "That is a problem."_

_Ezran nods. She screws up her face before lighting up. "Oh, I got it!"_

_She unclips her own cloak, draping it over Bait. The glowtoad growls happily, glowing pink and Sarai giggles. _

_He frowns. He can see right through his mother. _

_Like both Ezran and him, Sarai has always worn her heart on her sleeve. It beats warm and kind beneath her armor._

_There's the sound of a horse neighing softly and the clinking of boots. Sarai's smile wilts as she stands. "Time to go."_

* * *

They ride through the night and growing morning. Although Amaya's back aches, she spurs the mare to keep moving forward. She knows the more distance between them and the castle, the safer the princes are.

_Moonshadow elves,_ the letter says in Sarai's loopy writing.

Amaya doesn't take relief in the way the quill almost seemed to quiver with the writing, ink lighter at the ends where Sarai didn't bother to dip in and gather more ink.

There isn't much talking.

They stop to camp as the sky is beginning to darken with dusk. Amaya takes first watch, all but glaring her Lieutenant into his bedroll beside Ezran. The crown prince is already fast asleep, mouth open just enough that a thin line of drool lands on Bait's eye.

Amaya suppresses a chuckle as Bait swipes at the offending liquid with his tongue before turning back to watch.

She props herself against the tree trunk, laces her fingers together.

The rest of the night passes quickly.

The adrenaline still coursing from Sarai's letter keeps her awake. She doesn't bother to wake Gren, despite their agreed watch schedule, knowing he is exhausted from being pulled from bed already.

She spears her sword in the ground, her shield against the tree she's leaning against, and watches the still forest around them.

The sky is starting to lighten, the sky coming alive with birds when she catches movement in her peripheral.

Amaya turns sharply, hand wrapping around her hilt.

It's Callum.

She lets her hand fall from the pommel.

His bedroll shifts and Amaya glances at the forest around them before standing and taking hesitant steps towards him. The eldest of Sarai's sons is fast asleep, eyebrows knitted and his body shifts with nightmares.

Amaya's hand hovers above his shoulder.

With a shout, Callum sits straight up. Amaya starts but doesn't pull back, kneeling by his side. Callum's breath is fast in his chest, eyes wide with panic as he scrambles to find himself among his surroundings.

Without thinking, Amaya pulls him into her arms.

She can feel him sobbing into her shoulder. She's taken off the smaller parts of her armor, knowing they're far enough into the dense woods that if anyone was coming, she would see them long before they reached their makeshift camp.

Knowing Callum's crying is muted as to not wake his brother, Amaya threads her fingers through his hair. He hasn't held her like this since he was a kid, since she would come back from their borders with smoking armor and new scratches on her face and he would run to her.

Without fail, she would catch him every time. No matter how weary she was.

Callum trusts her implicitly to catch him and she knows she would never break that promise, even at the opposite end of a sword. She'll give her life for these boys.

_Got you,_ she mouths, knowing he can feel the vibrations in her throat, _I got you._

She doesn't know how long they stay like that.

Callum pulls back when Ezran starts to stir.

The sun is almost fully raised in the forest's horizon and Amaya watches as he scrubs at his flushed cheeks. She knows that despite Callum barely being older than Ezran - four years isn't as much as Callum thinks it is - that he's holding it together for his little brother.

Amaya remembers Ezran's birth. It was early in the spring morning when Sarai's grip on her hand lessened and Amaya looked down the bed to see one of the nursemaids holding a squirming bundle.

Harrow's mouth had stretched wide, either in a smile or in a cry. Amaya didn't know. She had clutched Sarai's hand, mopping the sweat off her forehead and mouthing /you did it/ over and over.

"Callum," Sarai had said. Amaya had nodded, kissed her older sister's forehead and went to collect the little boy.

Callum was outside the royal chamber, swinging his feet absentmindedly. Amaya wasn't surprised to see the piece of charcoal in his head, shaggy head of light brown hair hanging over his sketchbook.

She knelt by his side, smiling, as Callum looked up.

_A brother,_ Amaya had mouthed and Callum's face lit up.

While Callum had been studiously learning sign language, she knew his chubby fingers still struggled with some letters. Callum had closed his sketchbook then, taken her outstretched hand. Amaya smiled down at him, the charcoal rubbing off from his fingers onto hers and had pulled out a handkerchief.

Callum had frozen in the doorway.

Amaya drew him back. She knew how he clammed up around other people; the shy little step-prince, born a bastard. Amaya could read lips.

She'd seen the rumors.

_I'm going to fight the Crown Guard, _Amaya had informed Sarai once, to her sister's anguish. _The way they talk about your son is unacceptable._

Sarai had challenged the Captain of the Crown Guard to a duel that morning and in front of the entire assembly, ground his face into the dirt and declared that anyone that said anything against her son would be banished from Katolis.

"Come meet your brother," Sarai had said, exhaustion etched into her every movement. She had been propped up on pillows, the bundle in her arms fretted over by Harrow.

Amaya had put her hand on Callum's shoulder, nodding, and the little boy had run over and climbed on top of the blanket. She remembers leaning against the doorframe, watching the little family as the rest of the room hustled about, cleaning up and spreading the good news.

Harrow had an heir to the Katolis throne.

But that hadn't mattered to Amaya. She could still see his little face, cheeks plump with lingering baby fat smiling wide as he held his baby brother for the first time.

Maybe it's because she sees something in Callum she saw in herself; that spark of determination despite what people said. Maybe it was because she was deaf and he was a bastard, maybe it was because she once enjoyed dragging a piece of charcoal over parchment until under her fingernails was blackened.

Gren is the first to peek his head out of his bedroll.

Amaya turns, snorts at the way his strawberry hair sticks up at the ends from sleep. She turns, making sure Callum is still behind her, signing _good morning _to her Lieutenant before pointing to Ezran and signing_ up. We need to move._

He nods, giving her a thumbs up before gently laying a hand on Ezran's shoulder. Knowing her youngest nephew is in good hands, Amaya stands and offers her hand to Callum.

_Ride with me?_

Callum nods, takes her hand.

When he stands, Amaya watches the way his spine bends with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Stealing a glance at Gren, who's just rousing a very sleepy Ezran with bedhead worse than the latter, she pulls Callum into one more hug.

He pulls back first this time, smiling.

_Thank you._

Amaya nods, bowing her head as she touches her fist to her heart. Callum's smile could light up a dark chamber. Amaya can't help the warmth in her breastbone when Callum greets his brother with an unwavering smile.

Gren glances at her over breakfast of whatever they have in rations that Sarai packed and without signing a word, Amaya nods.

Ever faithful and able to read her every motion, Gren nods in understanding.

* * *

**A/N: Now we're caught up! This fic currently has six chapters already written and edited in my folder ready to publish, and as of now, I anticipate about 10-11 chapters. We'll see as we go along because this AU may have me in a chokehold. Get ready for the pining to continue!**

**A huge, HUGE shoutout to Waiting In the Quiet's author, ****Eirian Erisdar for creating the best Gremaya fic ever. Their writing made me want to write this story so without them, Whetted Knife wouldn't be a reality.**

**As always, don't forget to review! See y'all next week :)**


	3. Chapter 3

"Are we there yet?"

Amaya doesn't have to look over to know the question's been posed again.

She can see Ezran's lips from her peripheral. The look of slight annoyance but followed by quick patience - an expression she's quite used to - on Gren's face tells her enough, the long lines around his mouth.

She chuckles as Callum laughs quietly too in front of her on the horse, his body vibrating against her armor.

Logically, she knows she can't keep her armor on forever. That the horse will grow weary carrying both a growing boy and a woman in full armor and her shield. Plus whatever's in their packs. Quietly she hopes that they'll make it to the outskirts of some town before their horses tire.

Without them, their progress will slow to a snail's pace.

Gren knows it too. He shoots her a look that she catches from the corner of her eye when the mare beneath her breathes heavily going up a hill, despite their leisurely pace.

Illogically, she finds herself holding onto the armor. They're a day and a half's ride from the castle, in the less-dense parts of the forest. Anyone coming they would see from a mile away and they're utterly alone.

Gren doesn't swivel at every sound. They're only surrounded by the sounds of the trees - the wind, the skittering squirrels.

Still, she keeps her armor on, sword sheathed and shield at the ready.

Amaya wishes they could go faster.

They shouldn't have stopped for so long that morning, they should have kept going. She wants to put as much space between them and the castle - and whatever threats there may be - as quickly as she can.

The trip is silent.

Gren's horse pulls up beside her as they trod onto a wider path. _We're coming to a town, _he signs,_ we should lose the armor and get into plainclothes._

They both know the panic that two Crown Guard soldiers will cause if they ride into town like this.

_We can't be recognized,_ Amaya agrees.

As they approach the bend that will lead into the marketplace - Amaya can smell the food, can feel the vibrations of people walking around on stone and the ring of bells - she pulls their horses off the path.

Ezran looks excited. "Are we going into town?"

Gren nods, sliding off his saddle to then lift the prince after him. Ezran smiles, turning to Callum, eyes lighting up. Amaya helps the older prince down as well and turns to Gren.

_We'll take turns changing. You first. Stow your armor in the saddlebags and leave whatever you can. We travel light and fast._

A single fist to Gren's breastplate tells her he's heard and Amaya turns away.

With the help of the princes, they empty the packs of the horses of their extra plain clothes and lighter, hooded cloaks. Amaya counts their remaining food. There's at least a week's worth of rations in the saddlebags and she smiles to herself.

Her older is nothing if not always prepared.

Gren appears to her right. His plainclothes are simple - nothing more than the same blue tunic that he wears beneath his armor with black trousers tucked into his boots.

He nods and takes over unpacking and rearranging their things.

She can feel Callum's eyes on her as she walks away.

Amaya changes quickly behind a tree not far from their resting place. She unlatches her armor in precise, sure movements, setting each piece into the grass and switching her plain black underthings for whatever she shoved in her pack. It isn't hard to find where Gren has stashed his own armor. It's oddly difficult to lay aside pieces of her gold and blue armor into the leafy bushes, to decide what she can and cannot conceal underneath her clothing and cloak, what will fit into their saddlebags.

Gren looks up when she emerges, the most integral parts of her armor in her arms. She has left behind her greaves, braceplates, tassets and mournfully, her shield.

There is no place to hide a shield this large.

She only keeps her gauntlets and breastplate, a single stop rib and pauldron. From the look of Gren's armor when she hid the metal in the bushes, he did the same.

Her plainclothes are almost exactly the same except she's in a loose charcoal tunic and deep blue skirt that cuts across her figure, exposing the upper part of her left leg. She's left on her tight black trousers. The rest of her armor is hidden in a bush.

They're far enough in the woods that Amaya is confident that their armor won't be found. At least - until they come back for it.

Amaya is confident they'll be back this way. In a few days, they'll receive word from the castle that the threat was false or that it was illuminated and they'll turn around. They'll dig up their armor and ride back through the gates and Amaya will watch Ezran and Callum come home to their parents.

She refuses to believe anything else.

_Ready?_

She nods, arranging her sword to fit into the long side of the skirt. _Find anything interesting?_

_We enough rations for the next week if we're careful, _Gren signs as Callum takes the pieces of her armor she can't hide beneath her lighter cloak. Amaya watches him pack them lovingly into the saddlebags, touches light._ We also have this. We'll have to thank the Queen next time we see her._

Amaya catches the pouch he tosses easily. It's heavy in her hand, small, and she opens it. The contents make her eyebrows raise in surprise.

_How much is this?_

Gren shrugs. _About thirty pounds, give or take._

_At least we have resources if we need more extensive food or supplies,_ she signs with one hand before tossing the pouch back. Gren catches it deftly.

She watches how his face stretches into a smile.

_Nice outfit, by the way._

Amaya rolls her eyes. _Up, Commander. Its purpose is for concealment, _she signs before moving aside the layers to show him her sword's sheath._ Don't grow used to it._

Gren's laugh, she imagines, is hearty. She watches the way his head is thrown back as his lips move rambunctiously and the movement of his throat with the sounds.

She looks away.

Callum is watching her.

She regards him. _Callum? What's wrong?_

"Won't we be recognized?"

Amaya's mind snags on the movement of his lips and her eyebrows furrow. She hadn't thought of that. _Did your mother pack any plainclothes?_

_I don't think so, _Callum signs back. Amaya doesn't mention how he's switching from signing to talking aloud at an odd interval._ I'll check, though._

Amaya nods, turning. Gren's still on the ground, fiery hair tousled by the soft wind that's pushing her own dark fringe into her eyes. She jerks her head at Callum, holding out her hand. He takes it and she hoists him to his feet. Gren dusts off his pants, bends to grab the packs off the ground.

Amaya spots Ezran a little ways away, bent over a leaf he seems to be showing Bait. The glowtoad plays along for a minute or two before his tongue darts out of his mouth and he swallows the leaf whole.

As Gren chuckles beside her, Callum appears from the other side of the mare. _Nothing,_ he signs. Amaya nods.

_I knew that we would need more supplies, _she signs before turning to Gren._ We have cloaks for the boys to wear now but port is still four days away at the soonest by our time and the map. We'll have to get them some plain clothes._

He seems to think for a second. _Should I go into town first and get the princes what they need?_

_No, we can't risk drawing attention to ourselves. The path goes right through town and leads to the port. We don't stray unless we need to._

Gren nods. _Is the armor well-hidden?_

_Mine is, _she teases with a smile._ I don't know about yours._

The unimpressed look he shoots her makes her smile wider and for a split second, with Ezran laughing at something Callum's said and Gren's eyes lighting up with laughter, Amaya forgets about all comes crashing back a second later and she sobers.

Her nephews are in danger, her sister and brother-in-law under death threats.

Assassins.

She's _laughing_.

Gren notices the way her mouth drops suddenly. _Amaya? Are you alright?_

_Fine, _she signs sharply and swings herself onto her horse._ We need to get moving._

For a moment, he regards her. Although Amaya looks away, she knows her interpreter doesn't need to see her face to read her wholly and completely. It's literally his job description.

She flattens her lips over two fingers. Callum and Ezran look over.

_We need to get moving,_ she repeats and Callum nods.

They're off.

* * *

"Your Highness."

Harrow doesn't move from the window. There is an exasperated sigh and the clicking of a walking stick that he recognizes well. It halts a few feet from his vigil. "Harrow, you're stewing, I know you."

"I asked to be alone," he says, not completely unkindly but with force.

There's a humorless chuckle.

"I've never been good at following orders and the Queen is requesting your presence in your chambers. It has to do with the disappearance of -"

The voice trails off. Harrow's fists clench behind his back and he turns just enough to see Viren's grimace.

"- my sons," Harrow finishes.

Viren's frown deepens as he cringes.

"Yes, the...princes," Viren says awkwardly before clearing his throat. "Rest assured, both Claudia and I are searching for ways to track down whatever happened to them. We will bring them and the General home."

Harrow sighs, dropping his head to his chest. In the early morning sunlight, the dark sepia of his skin all but glows, the circlet on his forehead sparkling.

Yet, the crown has aged him.

Viren can see it in the lines around his eyes, the way his spine seems to sag with the physical and metaphorical weight of the circlet on his head. He can see it in Sarai too, especially with the disappearance of the princes two days ago.

"So you sent General Amaya after them?"

He turns, hand massaging the skin around his eyes. "Yes?"

There's suspicion dripping from Viren's voice and apprehension in Harrow's.

"It's nothing," Viren says quickly, burying whatever was in his voice that made Harrow turn around. His best friend is on edge right now, an assassination plot hanging over his head and the knowledge that both his sons are gone.

Well. His biological son and step-son.

Viren bows. "I did not mean to upset you, Your Highness. I only meant to bring you a message."

"I know," Harrow sighs heavily as he turns fully. "I apologize for my irritable tone. Thank you for all your help, Viren. It's invaluable to me."

Viren just inclines his head and Harrow turns back to the window. He listens to the receding sound of Viren's cane against the stone, looks back out of the glass.

It's a full moon tonight.

Harrow can only hope the princes are far away from the castle. Sarai had entrusted their safety to her sister - Harrow has never doubted General Amaya before. He's seen her on the battlefield, he's seen her in and out of armor. While his wife has an iron fist and a kind heart, Amaya is a sunfire-forged blade, all edges. Sarai has told him briefly of their childhood, of Amaya standing by her side as she had a bastard son, the Lady of a Noble House and up-in-coming Captain of the Crown Guard.

Sarai has told him of how she stood by Amaya's side as she became the first woman General of the Crown Guard, how she single-handedly taught an entire standing army sign language.

A tactical advantage.

He's seen her though, around his sons. Harrow has seen the way her shoulders relax when she sweeps Callum or Ezran into a bone-crushing hug, her steel-cut almond eyes softening whenever Ezran throws his head back laughing at something Bait's done or when Callum shows him her sketchbook underneath the tree in the courtyard.

Harrow has seen her around Commander Gren.

She's softer than she lets on. Sarai is harder than she lets on.

King Harrow of Katolis is more exhausted than he lets on.

* * *

**A/N: I swear action/conflict/the actual PLOT is coming. See you next Monday!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I know this one is a little shorter but it packs a punch. Revelations are had and we learn a bit more of what's going on. Shoutout to Daniela for reviewing. Thank you!**

* * *

The marketplace is bursting at the seams with movement.

When the horses first trod onto the stones leading into the village, Amaya hesitates. The town square is teeming with people, tightly packed and Amaya wishes for the hundredth time they could go around.

_It would look suspicious,_ Gren had reminded her when she brought it up back in the forest when they re-saddled their horses and set off. Amaya had frowned in thought as Callum scribbled something in his sketchbook.

She hadn't looked over his shoulder.

It's been two days.

Ezran's mouth stretches wide with excitement, eyes like dinner plates. "Look!" he cries, pointing. Gren laughs, shoulders relaxing, and Amaya watches it all.

Callum watches his aunt's hands flex around the reins as she leads them into town.

The smell of the marketplace makes his stomach grumble and mouth water. Merchants line the streets with tables and tents, yelling out their wares.

Amaya proceeds carefully, head held high and shoulders straight but still enough to be taken as a peasant traveler, despite her training and noble upbringing. Callum is impressed.

Gren follows closely behind and Callum finds himself glancing back at his younger brother on the other horse often. The cloak Amaya had draped around his shoulders is stifling, despite the thin fabric. It's obviously made for warmer weather.

He's sweating like a sinner in church.

The afternoon sun is blazing high in the sky by the time they make it to the center of town. Callum watches every movement steadily and suspiciously.

_Relax. We're just passing through. It's just a town._

Callum almost jumps out of his skin when Amaya's fingers appear in front of his face. He blinks.

_It looks a lot smaller from the outside._

He can feel his aunt's huff of silent laughter against his back. _We'll be out soon enough. Do you want to switch horses once we reach the port?_

_No, _Callum signs back._ Ezran's having a lot of fun with Gren._

They both look over at the other horse, where Gren is bent low to talk in Ezran's ear. The noise in the marketplace makes it impossible for Callum to talk to Ezran and Gren, even if he wanted to. Ezran laughs at something Gren's said and points to some spot in the teeming crowd. Bait, as always, looks dubiously grumpy.

_Gren's always had a soft spot for you boys, _Amaya signs quickly._ Don't tell him I told you, though. He likes to think you don't know._

Callum chuckles but it tampers out. She frowns.

_Callum? Something wrong?_

_Have we received word from the castle yet?_

There's a foul taste in Amaya's mouth. The parchment roll in the bag at her hip seems to burn when it brushes against her skirts when the mare trods over a broken cobblestone.

Amaya can't lie to him. _No. I'm sure we'll receive word soon, though. Don't worry._

_How would they reach us?_

Callum is insistent and Amaya sighs. They make it through the densest part of the towns square and the masses seem to die out the further down the main street they get.

_Your father would send word to the port town we're heading to, _Amaya signs._ At least in the letter, your mother said-_

She freezes, realizing her mistake too late. Her hands stutter but she can't take back what she's said.

_Letter?_

Amaya winces, squeezes the reigns between her palms._ Later, Callum._

_What letter Aunt Amaya?_

The sharp movement of Callum's fingers and the furrow of his eyebrows, when he twists on the saddle to look at her, tells Amaya this isn't something he'll let go.

He's always taken after his mother, after all.

_Later,_ she promises sternly. Her eyes soften a moment later.

Callum looks taken aback at her forceful command but turns back, seemingly satisfied. She takes a deep breath, loosening the reins in her grasp and motioning Gren to catch up with her.

Within a moment, he's there. She signs quickly.

_We'll stop for the night at the edge of town. There's something I have to show Callum. If Ezran wants, you can take him into the market for a bit._

Gren nods, but between his eyebrows creases. _Any reason?_

_Slip of the tongue,_ she signs with an ironic smile. Gren snorts but she knows by the uneasiness on his face that it's humorless.

All too soon, they reach the edge of the small town.

Callum's fingers are nervous where they play with the strap of his sketchbook and Amaya tilts her head back, hand shading her eyes. The sun is starting its descent into the horizon and she doesn't doubt that night will start to fall soon.

Gren and her lock eyes. Gren nods.

He dismounts his horse, holding out his arms for Ezran. The crown prince shakes his head, dismounting himself. Amaya watches the movement of his mouth.

"Why are we stopping?"

"We need some supplies," Gren lies. His face doesn't give away his misgivings. "Would you like to come, Ezran?"

Ezran's face lights up. "I would love to! Can Callum come too?"

Amaya and Callum make eye contact. Callum tears his eyes away, plastering on a smile despite the lines around his eyes, so similar to Sarai that Amaya's chest aches.

"Go ahead, Ez. I'll help Aunt Amaya set up camp."

Ezran, for his age, can be infuriatingly perceptive. Amaya knows he sees the lines around Callum's eyes, the fingers that worry at his already-worn sketchbook strap. She sees the concern that flashes across Ezran's face for a moment.

"You sure?"

Callum nods, eyes still pinched. "Yeah. Have fun."

With one last lingering look at his older brother, Ezran follows Gren back into town. From here, Callum can still hear the instruments, the laughing of the dancers in the square as they twirled around, clapping their hands.

"Aunt Amaya?"

Her back is to him, hands digging around in the saddlebags of her mare. Callum sighs as she pulls one of the bedrolls from the packs, turns, her skirt fluttering enough in the wind that he catches a glance of her sword beneath. He comes into her peripheral.

_Aunt Amaya._

She refuses to meet his eye. _Later. We need firewood. Night is approaching._

Callum makes a sound of frustration, shoving his hands into his pockets. With a grumble, he turns heel and stalks for the forest, back bent against the wind.

Solemnly, Amaya watches him go.

The aunt and General in her screams for her to follow him, make sure he's safe. The girl in her soothes for her to stay because she understands. They both need time and space. In her pocket, the letter is heavy with the knowledge that she's hesitant to share.

He's just a boy, after all.

Stewing does no good. With a frown, Amaya turns back to the horse, throws the bedroll in her hand on the ground. Pulls out another.

Despite the leafy branches above him, the sun burns hot and bright into his neck. Callum scowls, kicking at a rock before bending to pick up another stick. "I'm not a kid anymore," he mumbles indignantly. "Why didn't she just tell me?! I can take it!"

The bushes to his right rustle and he freezes. The wind isn't strong enough to make such a racket, he hasn't seen an animal despite traveling miles in the forest –

The moment passes.

He releases a harsh, pent-up breath he hadn't realized he was holding in.

"Stupid," he chides himself. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ – nothing's there! It's just the wind. This is why no one tells you anything, idiot."

He turns back to camp, frowning.

The bush rustles again.

When he glances back, there's nothing again. He rolls his eyes, picks up a stick he's missed, and heads back in the direction he came. By the time the clearing comes back into view, the sun is disappearing behind the trees overhead and Amaya is sitting on a stone, sharpening her sword with a whetstone.

Callum trods back, glad that while they're not very far from the main road and in a clearing, it's just hidden enough from any travelers passing by. He knows the questions that would be raised if anyone saw Amaya with her sword out.

He flinches at the rough sound of the stone against the side of the blade and drops the sticks in the middle of the stone circle Amaya has marked at.

Amaya doesn't flinch. She keeps her eyes on her sword and it's only then that Callum sees the parchment roll sticking out of the pocket on her hip, the tremor in her hands.

Her eyes slide closed when Callum's hand stops the movement of the whetstone. If he wasn't watching as closely as he was, Callum would've missed the tear that drips down Amaya's face and onto her hand.

Neither one moves to wipe it away.

"Please," Callum says as Amaya looks up. He knows she can read his lips. "Aunt Amaya, please. What's going on?"

Although he watches her face closely, there's no change in her features. If he hadn't seen the tear, he knows he would've thought his aunt was fine.

He doesn't blink. There's a single crack in the chink of Amaya's armor.

Without signing a word, Amaya sets down her whetstone and reaches for the parchment roll. It snags slightly on the fabric of her skirt and Callum watches the unsteady breath she takes when her fingers brush it.

She doesn't pull back, though.

Amaya's eyes meet his. Callum refuses to look away, even as Amaya does, pursing her lips together as she holds out the roll.

She doesn't raise her hands to say anything.

Callum takes it.

His heart beats wild and fast in his chest, like a jackrabbit. His mouth feels dry all of a sudden and he gulps, all but collapsing in the dirt. The parchment roll, so unassuming, holds the answers to all the questions he's had burned in his chest for two days.

He doesn't know if he's ready to learn the truth.

Is it better to stay in the dark like Ezran, or have the answer to his questions? Callum doesn't know and for a fleeting moment, wishes he never asked to see the letter.

He unravels it anyways, Amaya's gaze burning into him.

Sarai's handwriting is loopy and quick, one he could recognize anywhere. It's in the front of his sketchbook, alongside Harrow's.

Callum takes a stuttering deep breath as he unfurls the first page. There is no going back now.

_Sister,_

_There are Moonshadow Elves gathering at the border. Scouts have reported their presence for months but we received word they were moving._

_Assassins are coming._

_It is evident who they are after – both the King and I are aware of the threat against his life. It's been no secret since Last Winter's turn but we fear it will continue from there. They are coming for Ezran._

_They will not find him._

_If you have this, you have heard my plea. As I write this, Harrow is hand-picking a guard to protect him. I think we both quietly know it will not do much good – the Moonshadow Elves will strike when they are at their mightiest. The Full Moon is coming, Amaya. We don't have any more time for dallying._

_Go directly to the stables after you've chosen your companion. I know you, sister. You'll choose Gren. He is a fine choice, I trust you both with my life, my boys. We will escort the boys from their chamber._

_Be hasty, sister._

_We do not have much time but there is much to do._

_You will ride for far East, for Port. Cross the border if you must but stay alert and safe. I have already packed your bags, secured you enough supplies for whatever you need. Return to your chambers, grab extra clothing. You know as well as I that a Crown Guard General riding into whatever towns you choose to ride into will not take your sight with ease, will create panic._

_I know what you are thinking. Why aren't the King and I running as well, stealing away in the night as you are?_

_I only wish we could. If the Moonshadow Elves do make it past our defenses – and I suspect they will – then who knows the damage they could do to the bystanders. Your leaving will ensure Callum and Ezran's safety while us staying will ensure the town's._

_I am their mother, but I am also Queen._

_If I die, Amaya, I hope one day they will understand._

_You have always been perceptive. Inside, Harrow and I have written two other letters – one for each of the boys. But my last one is solely yours, Amaya. My sister. My companion through everything, my guard, my rock through the times when I was only a Commander of the Crown Guard with a bastard son sired by a nameless man._

_I thank you for that._

_At the end of your letter there is a note. This is for Gren._

_I ask you give it to him without reading it. There are things I never said to him that I wish to tell him now, even if it is only through a letter. It is entirely up to his person if he wishes to tell you._

_I love you, Amaya. It is only fitting that my possible last act as Queen and their mother is a declaration of my love to you by entrusting you with the safety of my sons. I beg of you, do whatever you must to keep them alive. They are my lifeblood and heart, the reason I get up in the morning._

_Care for them as you've cared for me, as you care for Gren. They will be safe with you, I have no doubt._

_With love,_

_Your sister, Sarai._

The parchment falls from Callum's hands as his spine bends inward, his grief folding in on itself. Amaya is there in a minute, arms coming around to hold him as she tucks his head into her breastbone and feels him weep against her skin.

The sun burns low in the sky.

In the dirt, the broken Katolis seal of the uneven towers is split perfectly down the middle.

* * *

**A/N: See y'all next week!**


End file.
